Human
by JokerGrace
Summary: They see monsters in the mirror but it'll take another too see past the horror, the dispair, and see something beautiful. Something that remotely resembles a human. Orc/Mary. Yes, Orc and Mary.


**_Human_**

Orc is tired. As in feet-dragging, eyes-propped-open-through-sheer-force-of-will tired. He isn't sure when he last slept, but it seems almost irrelevant to his muddled mind. The nearest he can guess at is too long ago. Far too long ago. Surely if he steals one more hour –

No.

Orc stumbles towards Town Hall, lazily searching the dirt-strewn roads as if the answer to his ever-lasting guilt has been discarded there. The road is mostly clean, and he feels a brief surge of pride. Orc has been asking – no, begging – Sam to allow him to do what he thinks of as community work. He knows this is what criminals do to try and appease their sins. Orc knows that it will never be enough; he'd _murdered_ a girl. But it is a start. And if he shows how desperately sorry he is, maybe he can stop the endless torrent of nightmares that haunt him.

He lugs his huge weight up the steps and takes a brief minute to wade through the fog of tiredness and remind himself where the mayor's office is. Sam sometimes sleeps there, and if he doesn't, he often stays until late.

He knocks on the door and his hand smashes straight through the polished wood as if it is paper. Orc jerks his eyes open and curses; if he was more awake, he'd have attempted to control his strength better.

"Hey, Orc," Sam calls wearily.

"How'd you know it was me?" asks Orc, stepping into the luxurious room which was previously owned by Caine Soren. Sam nods towards the hole in the door, which is answer enough.

There is a pause as Orc attempts to gather his muddled thoughts together and string them into a coherent question. Sam waits patiently, tapping his pencil against his teeth. Finally, Orc remembers what it is he has come for.

"I cleaned the graffiti over on Golding Street."

"I know, Orc, I saw. Uh, thanks. Good job."

"What else can I do?"

Sam kneads his temples with his knuckles. For the past month, Orc has heckled him with the same question:_ What else can I do?_ Odd as it is, Orc has turned out to be the hardest worker in the FAYZ. He has picked food, cleaned (both the streets and the graffiti) and guarded Ralph's on several occasions. And as useful as it is to have a worker who refused any 'Bertoes, who is as resilient as Orc, Sam can't allow this to go on.

"Orc, man, when was the last time you slept?"

Orc blinks twice; the first time in surprise, the second as he tries to count the hours in his head. The numbers wiggle around, and then drift away completely.

"Orc?"

"Uh... I dunno. But I'm okay. Got a few more hours in me."

Sam hefts a sigh. "You've got to get some sleep, Orc. You're over worked. Seriously, man, I appreciate it. But you're human."

_I'm not,_ Orc thinks, gazing down at his gravel coated fingers. _I killed Bette. Maybe I never was human._

"Get some sleep, then maybe I'll reconsider," instructs Sam. He can feel his own eyelids closing.

"What else can I do, Sam? I'll do any job. Please, you don't know what it means –"

"I think I do, Orc. But even if you weren't in danger of collapsing, there's not much left for you to do."

"I can do litter duty."

"I've got some guys on that."

Orc searches his brain for a job he could complete. His eyes alight on a picture of the old mayor with his four-year-old son.

"I can help out at the day care; I know Mary doesn't have enough helpers."

Sam measures Orc up. "Fine. Whatever. Just get some sleep, 'kay? You start at ten tomorrow."

Orc staggers towards the house he shares with Howard, feeling victorious. Well, victorious and sleepy.

* * *

"What do you _mean_?"

Mary stares with wide eyes at Sam. It hasn't been a good day for her; she'd wolfed down a whole pizza that she'd found at the bottom of the freezer. It had tasted so good, the stringy cheese decorating her mouth like streamers. Then she'd forced herself to vomit everything back up into the sink. She can still taste the tang of sick, no matter how many times she has brushed her teeth. Now this.

"Orc? At the day care? No! _No!_"

"Mary, I –"

"He killed Bette! He's a bully! What's more, he's got that... rock stuff on his skin. The kids are terrified of him."

"They're a part of the FAYZ; they need to trust Orc." Sam searches his brain for a good quote that he can borrow from Astrid. "_United we stand; divided we fall_. Anyway, you need some help."

"Not from that monster," Mary growls, and she storms out of the office, making her way back to the hell hole that is her prison.

* * *

"Look at my drawing, Mother Mary."

"I'm hungry!"

"My mummy should be here by now."

"Mother Mary, _I _was using the green crayon but Julia stoled it –"

She sets about attempting to restore sanity to the screaming masses; an almost impossible task.

"I need the toilet."

"When can I go home?"

"Will you read me a story?"

Oh, God, she can't do it. John is crumpled in the corner, snoring loudly despite the noise. She can't wake him, not when she noticed the dark bruises underneath his eyes. _Keep it together,_ she instructs herself.

"Sophie, put down that Lego. Now I want everyone to be very quiet – Jackson! No! I – STOP IT!"

The whole room freezes and for a moment Mary thinks her outburst had finally commandeered their co-operation. It was only when she hears the heavy thud behind her when she realises what the children are seeing.

"Um... Sam sent me to help out," Orc murmurs to the floor. He can't bring himself to meet Mary's furious gaze; instead he considers his feet.

The room is filled with a kind of awkward horror; the children are cowered and Mary isn't quite sure what to say. Despite the fact that they drive her crazy, the prees are her kids and after what Drake did only a few months ago...

She'll never allow them to feel that uncontrollable fear again. She has to do what is best for her children; she is Mother Mary.

"Listen, Orc –" She never gets any further than that, because Bill, one of the three-year-olds, walks up to Orc.

"Why doesn't you have shoes?"

"Huh?" asks Orc.

"Why doesn't you have shoes on?"

The little boy is craning up at him, taking in the colossal mass of muscle, the gravel coated skin, and yet the thing he comments on is the fact that Orc has bare feet. The corner of Orc's mouth tips up into a slight smile.

"Uh, none fit me."

The sea of children stare up at him in wonder. "Does your feet get lonely with no shoes?" asks Bill. Orc shakes his head, half unsure. He looks at Mary for help but she pointedly ignores him. She obviously doesn't approve of him helping out.

"Can you lift me up?" asks Cassie. She often begs someone to carry her around, but with the food running out slowly and surely, hardly anyone has the strength to do so.

"Sure," Orc says shyly, and he gently lifts her into the air and, after a glance at Mary, throws her up into the air cautiously before catching her. She squeals and suddenly Orc is surrounded by kids who tug at the bottom of his shorts, asking to be lifted.

John stirs and sits up in his corner. "Mary? What is it? Do you need me?"

"No," she whispers, eyes glued to the humongous boy. "Get some more sleep, little bro. Orc's helping out."

"Orc? Whoa – why?"

"No idea," she says, chewing her bottom lip. "But I think he's... I don't know."

* * *

Orc knows that Mary doesn't really want him to be there. He can tell she doesn't really trust him from the way she stands. She rocks the babies in her arms and hardly pays him any attention, but he can't really muse on that, seeing as whenever he puts down one kid, another clamours for his attention. He realises he is... enjoying himself? Every other bit of community work he's done has been gratifying; he's worked to dull the disgust he feels burning inside of him, and every drop of sweat had been an almost-gift, a remembrance, to Bette. This is different; the children want him; need him.

"Snack time," Mary announces from the kitchen, and everyone drops to the floor, used to the routine of the day care. Orc hovers as Mary hands out some old, dry biscuits that some of Sam's guys found on a raid. She paid as much attention to him as she would a fly, but when one of the babies starts crying, she catches his eye and pauses. "Would you... feed the diapers? Sorry, I mean the babies."

Orc realises his mouth is wide open; he must look like an idiot. "Sure, Mary."

"Bottle's on the side."

With a smile like that, Orc can completely understand why the prees trust her so completely.

* * *

"Thanks for helping," Mary breaths; most of the littles are fast asleep, curled around each other, and Orc is on his way home. "You did well. So, um, anytime you... I don't know, want to drop by... well, it'd be cool."

"Can I help tomorrow?"

Mary feels slightly taken aback; hardly anyone wants to help out for a second time.

"Sure," she says hesitantly. "They'd love to have you back."

She has to admit, she quite likes the idea of him returning.

* * *

Mary walks out of Ralph's clutching a toy wheelbarrow. Inside are some food supplies – not enough; there is never enough, but it will have to do. Sam is doing his best.

"Hey, where'd you get that food?" A twelve-year-old kid stops Mary and peers at the bounty in the wheelbarrow.

"Not mine, it's for the day care," she explains patiently.

"Can I have some?"

"It's for the day care," she repeats. The boy's whiny, shrill voice is starting to get on her nerves.

"Liar! You'se just gonna eat it for yourself. Pig."

"I'm gonna tell you one more time, then I'm walking away," warns Mary. What he'd said had stung; like lemon juice to a paper cut. _Pig... They think I'll eat it all._ All of a sudden, her stomach feels bloated. She chances a glance down towards her shirt and sees her stomach ballooning outwards. _Pig... _"None of this is for me. I won't get a bite." Well, she won't now; the kid is right. _Pig..._ "This is for the littles in the day care. They need to eat. They're hungry."

"I'm hungry. This morning me and my sister had to share half a jar of pickles. I want real food!"

He lunges for the supplies but Mary manoeuvres herself in front of them. He pushes her away, desperation feeding his muscles, making her trip over the wheelbarrow and fall sprawling across the pavement. Before she can cry out, something has lifted the kid up by the collar.

Not something. Someone.

"No-one beats on Mother Mary," Orc growls, bearing his teeth like an animal. "You gonna hurt her? I'll hurt you!"

"It's okay, Orc," Mary interrupts shakily. "I'm okay."

Orc nods at her. "APOLOGISE!" he roars to the kid.

"I – sorry," he whimpers. Something is gathering in the corner of his eye; a tear. "I'm just so hungry."

"I got that," Mary retorts coldly, and Orc drops the weeping boy unceremoniously onto the floor. He takes off as fast as he can go, needing no prompting from the mountain of gravel.

"Thanks, Orc," Mary says shyly. She gives him a warm smile and Orc grins sheepishly back. They walk back to the day care together.

* * *

"Will you read to me?"

Orc starts; he's been feeding one of the babies and has slipped into a day dream. He can hear the rain outside, drumming its fingers against the empty road. It is lulling, and is probably the reason why so many kids have fallen asleep.

"Sorry?" he studies the girl's face carefully; he's learnt all of the names of the prees. "What'd you say, Megan?"

"Will you read me a story?" she widens her innocent, blue eyes at him.

"Sure," he grunts. "Go pick something."

She races to the other side of the room and snags up a book. It is _The Cat in the Hat_. Megan sits down next to him and looks at him expectantly. Orc clears his throat and opens the book to the first page. A lump forms in his throat.

As embarrassing as it is, Orc isn't the best at reading. He can make do, but sometimes the words deceive him, wiggling round the page, spinning like Catherine Wheels, and he can't understand them. He looks down at the page covered in primary colours. What does it say?

"_The sun did not... shine_," he recites dutifully yet slowly. The lump grows bigger, to the size of a golf ball, making it impossible to read aloud. Tears pool in his eyes.

"_It was too wet to play,"_ Mary adds, sitting on Orc's other side. She traces the words with her index finger. "_So we sat in the house all that cold, cold wet day._"

Orc listens to the nonsense poem, which Mary makes sound like a beautiful hymn. At first he watches her elegant fingers skate across the page in perfect harmony with her voice, but soon he finds his eyes tracing up her arm and locking onto her face. She is an angel.

"_What would YOU do if your mother asked YOU?"_ finishes Mary. Orc and Megan speak at the same time.

"Thank you, Mother Mary."

"It's Mary," Mary advises when Megan has hopped off to play with a jigsaw. "You've helped me out. I had to return the favour."

Orc repeats it again. "Thank you... Mary."

Her name tastes like honey on his tongue.

* * *

Howard waves a hand in front of Orc's face. "You there, man?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah."

He tears his eyes away from the other side of the Plaza, where she is sitting.

* * *

Orc is helping out again. It's good to see him there. It is _always_ good to see him. John was scheduled to do mornings that week but Mary had insisted on taking this particular morning.

She's tried to convince herself she had a good reason for doing so but when defending her motives against herself, she's forgotten what it was.

Orc is helping Lucas tie his shoes. It always amazes Mary that Orc's fingers could do such a delicate task. He looks more capable of crushing a brick one-handed. Just as she decides that, Orc fumbles and manages to tie the knot far too tightly. She gives a carefree laugh and walks over to help him out. Orc looks up and gives his slow, sheepish grin.

Her stomach gives a crazy lurch. She's never felt anything like it. And Mary, poor, misguided Mary, jumps to the conclusion that it is due to the food. She hadn't vomited up last night's soup. She'd not exercised; she'd been too tired. The soup was still inside her, she can feel it sloshing around her. It weighs down her body; she is so heavy. Her bones feel as if they are made of steel. She can feel every single imaginary roll of fat on her body.

She runs to the bathroom.

Only Orc notices.

* * *

"_Hello, Charles."_

_He blinks slowly. How can she be here with him?_

"_Bette?"_

_She doesn't answer, but her head nods slightly. The breeze ruffles her autumn hair._

"_You're..." What can he say? Alive?_

_It doesn't matter that the words stick in his throat, because Bette has something to say._

"_Murderer." She has blood dripping down the side of her, pouring out of her mouth, painting the floor red._

"_Murderer."_

Orc woke up, but it was Howard who stood above him. He looked worried.

"You okay, man?"

"Uh-huh. Just... nothin'."

"Bad dream?"

"Yeah. It'll go soon."

He is lying. It will never go.

* * *

Mary stands wearing only her underwear. She searches through the tears at her body. Exploding stomach. Thighs. Round face. She can see her ribcage; it is waving a friendly hello, glad she's been able to shift enough weight to be able to see it again. She can still see how fat she is.

Fat. An ugly word for an ugly girl. She _is _ugly. Too round. Too fat.

Soon she'll be pretty, maybe even beautiful, but it is an uphill battle.

Is it worth it? Would she ever be... right? She is fighting, she has been for a long time, but what is there to fight for? John? He'd maybe be better off without her. The prees love him as much as they love her. Who would truly miss her? Most of the friends Mary had had before the FAYZ had been isolated, so they wouldn't morn her either.

Orc is a friend. He'd miss her. Sometimes she looks up and sees him watching her. It is good to sit with him, mostly just in silence. Once they'd gone outside and looked up at the stars. Her father, when he'd had time, had pointed out the different constellations but the names were mainly a jumbled mess to Mary. She'd tried to remember them for Orc, and she'd got them wrong. They'd laughed.

He'd like her more if she was a little bit thinner. She'd stop soon, when she was pretty.

* * *

They sit down together, eating (or in her case, not). They don't touch.

Orc is close, Mary noted. Close enough to touch. There isn't a centimetre between them.

So why does that feel like such a huge distance? As if an ocean separates them? _It's wrong,_ Mary reminds herself. _Don't think these things. It's Orc. _Orc. Just Orc. Only, he isn't _just _Orc. He is something more.

She concentrates on her food, afraid that if she thinks about him to much, the thoughts will show upon her face. What she doesn't realise is that just Orc is thinking about her, and to him she isn't just Mary.

* * *

"Why are you crying?"

Orc jerks his head up, ashamed at having been caught. The thoughts that haunt a school bully also hunt a day care worker. He wishes he's able to stop thinking of her. Bette.

"Nothin'" he answers glumly.

Mary plonks herself down next to him. "You can tell me."

Orc swallows and gathers up his courage. "I was thinking bout Bette."

An awkward silence falls between the two. Orc breaks it with a whisper. "I'm a monster. I sometimes forget about her. I don't think about her as much. I want to be happy, and I don't deserve – monster."

"You can't help that, Orc. You're human."

A beautiful word.

* * *

It is night-time, and as if in some silent agreement, Orc and Mary meet up outside the day care, stretched out side by side and gazing towards the sky. It is at times like these that Mary truly believes in the heaven which is veiled behind the twinkling lights of the stars. Each shining beacon beckons her eye.

Orc nudges her carefully and points straight ahead. "What's that?"

Mary narrows her eyes but can't remember. She's always been too tired to learn. "I don't know. But it looks like an elephant – see? You should ask Astrid."

"I prefer asking you," he answers shyly.

"Me?" she repeats, touched. "Why?"

"Because you see things that other people don't. Like the elephant. And... not many people see me. Not the way you do."

For a moment Mary doesn't answer, and Orc worries silently that he's offended her. What if he's imagined the way she thinks of him? What if she doesn't see him as a – whatever he was – but as an... employee?

"Thank you for saying that, Orc," Mary finally answers, and Orc realises with some shock that she is crying.

"You 'kay?"

"No-one's said anything to me like that before. I've never been that kind of girl who gets complimented."

"I could give you a thousand compliments," he whispers, unsure whether he wants her to hear.

Mary turns her head towards him in an almost challenging way. "You don't have to say that."

"I mean it," he says with such sincerity that she automatically believes him. "You're kind and thoughtful. You do the right thing. You're good. You're beautiful." His tongue trips over the last word.

"Beautiful?"

Not fat. Beautiful.

He nods bashfully, and she feels the blush colour her cheeks; a rose flowering. Before she is aware of what she was doing, Mary leans forwards.

Her lips brush his.

* * *

"Mary... are you _dating _Orc?"

Mary grins at her little brother. "Yup." She popped the 'p' sound.

"But, erm, why?" This is not a chat John had ever wanted to have with his older sister, but it is necessary. The whole town is whispering, and John would rather hear the truth from Mary – Mary won't lie.

"Because," she says slowly. "He's the kindest person in the whole FAYZ. He's done bad things and he's paid for them. He always puts someone else before him. He's sweet. And... I think I kind of love him."

* * *

Mary pulls the baggy hoodie a bit lower. She doesn't want to see her stomach. Since Orc had said that word (she sometimes whispered 'beautiful' to herself when she was lying in bed), she hasn't felt the need to vomit, to purge. But she is still a bit too big.

"_Fat?_ Where'd you get that idea?"

She realised she's been whispering the word aloud.

"Just – am I?"

"Of course not," Orc breathes. "You're perfect as you are. Whatever size you were, I'd still love you."

"Love me?" Mary repeats, marvelling at how right it sounds.

Orc ducks his head shyly.

"I love you too, Charles."

There lips meet, making the prees giggle. Mary doesn't want to stop; Orc's strong arms circling her body, his breath showering over her. She loves the rough outer and the tender inner.

"Mother Mary?"

Orc releases her reluctantly. There is always work to do.

* * *

Their hands graze. They stand proudly, intertwined; they walk the streets of the FAYZ because they know they deserve the small sliver of happiness that has finally shone through the almost everlasting clouds. They are not mended, not fixed. They are like fruit: bruised. Yet edible. There is still hope.

They both see monsters in the mirror, but that is no longer the thing that defines them. They are not monsters, they are not horrendous. They are together. They are human.

And every time Orc thinks differently, Mary will always remind him with her lips.

* * *

**A/N: And there you have it, an Orc/Mary one shot. I was filling out little questions on my profile when it asked me the plot of an Orc/Mary fic. I started typing it, but it ws so long that I realised I'd have to type it into Word and make it into a one shot. As far as I know (and I did a quick check), there aren't any Orc/Mary fics, so I hope this has been different for you. Love it, hate it, spit on it? Well, y'see that little button below? Click it, tell me, and I'll give you a personalised rock (one of Orc's younger siblings?)**

**Thanks for reading!**


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